


Stuff ig

by Dillbee



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18421287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dillbee/pseuds/Dillbee
Summary: Just some descriptive writing I wanted to share ig





	Stuff ig

A phantasmagoric woman, tall and mysterious. She stands around 6’7”, her body gaunt and withering, though she walks with a certain aire of confidence and knowing; chest puffed out wide like a dove on display; that is almost frightening. She is clad in seemingly simple clothing,- a rich black, long-sleeved leather duster that is split in the back up to her mid-thigh, seeming to have been singed and torn at the edges, keeping it’s scorched and tattered endings at her mid-calf. The coat end of her coat tucks behind her with her hands in her pockets, revealing the second part of her simplistic look. She wears an off-white, mildly-stained tank top tucked messily into a pair of high-waisted blue jeans. The bleached stains on her shirt seem to stem from one side, the right side, giving the usually pale, thicker cotton fabric a mild, yellow, splattered tint. Her blue jeans are of a lighter shade, appearing to be cut at the knees with a dull pair of scissors, giving it an unnatural look. The cuffs of these jeans are lazily tucked and rolled up to different heights,- the left far shorter than the right. The thick blue fabric is scuffed and dirty in places, a burn evident on the inner left thigh. Her cuffed jeans show off a pair of battle-worn white socks, stained from years of use that also appear to sag ever-so-slightly over the edges of her black combat boots. These boots are falling apart at the seems, tied lazily in miss-matched patterns with cheep standard boot laces. The ends of these laces are tattered and falling apart. Any skin shown through this outfit is a darker tone, making this form of polynesian or hawaiian descent. Her hair is feathery and startlingly iridescent to the faint touch of streetlights,- white,- cut into a messy bob that appears to pop out of her wide-brimmed, black bolero hat that’s adorned with a simple geometric star made of a mysterious pearly substance. Her most stunning feature however are a pair of glasses, circular and black-framed. The lenses are made of a reflective, mirroring, shining red substance that seems to glow, even in the dim light and shadow of her hat. They take your focus off of the rest of her face, though she seems to have a uniquely sharp jawline and high cheekbones, giving more light to her slender form. Tucked under her arm,- hanging off the wrist of the hands stuck into her pockets,- is a basket. This basket is made of light beige wicker, having a braided pattern to it. It is filled to the prim with what you can see to be yarn,- it is filled to the prim with eye-popping wool yarn of every color you could think of. Turquoise, baby pink, olive and traffic-cone orange,- a rainbow bundled in a plain basket, stuck with two metallic grey sewing needles. She gives you a grin, gummy and large, almost like a sneer, though it is shown out of friendliness. Upon further inspection in the hazy street lamp she’s now under, her blazer wears a simple sticker name tag that in big bold letters under red and white type says, ‘Lachesis’. She is both a threat and a friend, just as any stranger on clear nights on these cracked-sidewalk streets.


End file.
